The Art of Killing Your Sister
by Tennessee McCreary
Summary: Annie had been given the task of writing down all feelings about work and love down in a book. She was supposed to destroy it, but Danielle found it first. However, her main focus is stopping a psychopath's reign of terror. AnnieAuggie
1. The Story of My Sister

Annie Walker sat at the bar, not knowing what to feel. The mission she was assigned that day had gone horribly wrong. She was attacked. She was injured. She killed her attacker for the sake of the country. It had been her third kill in the past two weeks. She kept killing people. She could vividly remember the face of her attacker. A woman this time. Tall, round face, blond hair, the woman looked so much like her sister. She could see every drop of blood drip from the bullet she took to her heart. She could see the life evaporate from the woman's eyes. Her attacker's eyes. Her sister's eyes.

But it wasn't her sister. She had to remember that. Yet, she couldn't get herself to go back home. She couldn't deal with it.

"Annie," she heard a voice. A familiar voice. His voice.

"Auggie," she whispered. Her surprise slipped out. He was supposed to be over in Africa with his girlfriend. Why was he here?

She turned around to face him. He was smiling at her. She loved that smile. It made her heart pulse.

"What are you…" she tried to ask, "I thought…aren't you supposed to be in Eritrea with Parker?"

Even though the man was blind, Annie could have sworn that he was staring directly into her eyes.

"I was," he said, "but then I realized that I am in love with you."

The next thing she knew, she was kissing her best friend in the bar. His kisses were so comforting, so wonderful, they sent a tingling down her spine.

And then she'd wake up and realize it was just a dream. She had been having that dream a lot lately. She had been having that dream ever since she got back from her disastrous vacation from in Stockholm. She wouldn't tell anybody about these dreams. She was too embarrassed about them. They made her feel weak.

Yet I found out about these dreams, against her knowledge. Sisters have a way of doing that. She didn't want me too, but I did. They were part of the many aspects of her life that she didn't want me to know. She never found out her secrets were revealed to me.

Her dreams were far from the only secrets I would find out from her. I learned things that I am never supposed to know. But that's the risk of having a family that's close to you. I would learn her feelings for Auggie Anderson, her days at the place known as "The Farm", the aspects of her job, and the Koboi incident.

How did this knowledge come to me? Nobody told me. Nobody sent me a covert message. I didn't actively seek them out. I wasn't kidnapped while some criminal master mind told me all of these details. All of this information came to me completely by accident.

It was night. Annie was out with her work friends. A night before, Annie had let the girls play in her house while I had a fight with Michael. I had been having a lot of fights with the bastard. It always upset the girls. Annie would do her best to make sure that they weren't around while Michael and I yelled at each other. Katia apparently left one of her toys in the house, and she wanted it. I wasn't about to let my daughter go sneaking around my sister's house. Katia had a gift for finding things she wasn't supposed to have. I was fearful she would find a gun or something. I went to get the toy myself.

As I walked around the apartment, I couldn't help but think how messy my sister could be. She had barely been back for a couple of months, and it looked like a bomb had gone off. Although that was always a possibility.

As I was looking around for the toy, something caught my eye. A book, to be exact. I smiled as I read the title. I smiled as a read.

_A Murder is Announced  
>By Agatha Christie<em>

Agatha Christie is one of my favorite authors. Her works had gotten me through some very difficult times in my life. Sometimes, as a kid, I would read my collect of Agatha Christie books to Annie. The book caught my eye, because I hadn't read that one yet. I couldn't help myself. I picked it up. I am a fast reader, and I figured I would have it back to her within the morning. She would never know it was missing.

The book was not by Agatha Christie, but by my sister. It was her life, all written down nicely in the book. It was through that book that I would learn the events that led up to my sister's most life changing events.

This is the story of how Annie saved the lives of thousands.

This is the story of how Annie Walker and Auggie Anderson started their long lasting romance.

Most importantly, this is the story of how I died.

Although, I supposed it is important to mention how all of this information got into the little book in the first place.

It all started in Stockholm. Annie had saved my life by killing someone else. She couldn't get over it. The man haunted her in her dreams. It didn't matter that he would have killed me, she still felt guilty about it.

"What makes me different than him?" was a thought that would often cross her mind.

Because of her stress, she had been placed in counseling. The CIA has a lot of different therapists to help their agents deal with the stress of the job.

She sat on the couch, sighing. She didn't want to be here. She was strong. She was a big girl. She could handle it. But Joan had insisted on it, and so she was here. She still showed some defiance, though. She had arrived five minutes before her session was supposed to end.

The therapist was not very happy.

Her name was Ms. Trent. She had an accent, and Annie figured she was somewhere from England. Her hair was red, and very irritated looking brown eyes.

"You're late," she snapped at Annie, "You're session is supposed to be over in five minutes."

Annie simply smiled at her.

"Oops," she giggled. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The psychologists let out a heavy sigh.

"You're not here willingly, are you?"

"Nope."

Another sigh escaped the psychiatrist's lips. Another silence.

"You're here because you're having trouble dealing with the fact you killed someone, yes?" was Ms. Trent's next question. Annie nodded.

She was expecting a lecture about how she "couldn't run away from her problems," or something like that. That wasn't what she got. Instead, the woman handed her a book.

"You're giving me an Agatha Christie novel?" Annie asked, as she looked at the book. She was confused. How the hell was something like this supposed to help?

"It's a diary," Ms. Trent explained. Annie flipped through the pages, and sure enough, they were blank. "Since we're out of time, and I would have given it to you anyways, I need you to write in it."

"Write what?" Annie asked.

"Anything," Trent explained to her, "Your family, love life, feelings, even your missions."

"Isn't that risky?" Annie asked. She couldn't believe that someone in the CIA would tell her to do something like that. But sure enough, they were.

"That's what the fake cover is for," Trent explained to her, "What would you have us name it. Annie Walker's Secret Diary Full of Top Secret Government Operations?"

Annie couldn't help but chuckled, and she looked at the book. The logic made sense. Ironicly, she thought of me as she looked at the cover. She knew that I loved Agatha Christie.

She also thought of Auggie. She had found out that he had her entire collection at his home. He used to read a lot. She liked that about him. She nodded.

"Better than medication, I guess," she mumbled.

"When all the pages are filled up, burn the book." She was commanded. But Annie Walker would never get that opportunity.

The day she was going to burn it was when all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p><em>What can I say? I don't want to wait until the Summer for Covert Affairs to come back. I love it too much. Anyways, I've had this idea in my head for a while. I hope you guys will enjoy it. I hope you all have lovely days. Thank you for reading!<em>


	2. The Horrible Fisherman's Disaster

_I would like to thank Amanda, ShadesOfGrey97, Dixie Dewdrop, and Setsunie for reviewing._

* * *

><p><em>My name is Anne Katherine Walker. I work for the central intelligence agency. I am now writing in a book about the many issues that come with working for the central intelligence agency. Apparently, it's therapeutic.<em>

These were the first words written in that book. They were followed by many, unimportant details. Her favorite color, her favorite music, a rant about tech support. It was things like this that filled up the first three pages. It was the only reason I didn't stop reading right away.

Then things got interesting. She talked about her love life. She talked about her first crush, her first kiss, how she lost her virginity. She talked about the guys she's had in her life. Ben Mercer, Doctor Scott, among other men.

It is often said that there are many fish in the sea. This was a sentence I have told my sister many times throughout her life. It's a phrase used to make somebody feel better about their horrible relationship status. It implies that there are many different people in the world who you can fall in love with. It's a cliché, but it usually worked in cheering Annie up.

What I never told her is that she's a horrible fisherman. While it's true there are many fish in the sea, you have to have some talent at fishing to actually catch a good one. The only way she will get a good fish is if somebody catches it for her. This is why I always tried to set her up on dates. Compared to her, I am the god of fishing. However, she always threw them back. She's prideful that way. She wants to get her own fish.

As I read her book, I found that she had her sights set on a certain fish. This fish was her white whale. That fish's name was August Anderson.

Unfortunately, she had a bit of dilemma in her hunt. You can't catch a fish that's already been caught by somebody else.

But hey. He had given her a car. That's something, at least.

She didn't know how important he would become in the coming months. When things went to hell, he would be there for her. She would be there for him.

They would be the most important thing in each other's lives.

* * *

><p>Like everything complicated in her life, the case that went to hell would start off as a simple mission. Nobody expected it to go horribly as it did. Nobody expected the damage that would be caused in the coming months.<p>

Annie was aware of the events she was in for, she probably wouldn't have been smiling as she sat down in the theater that day. This was the happiest she had felt in an entire week. She had been sent to New York City to communicate with a contact, who apparently had some information regarding the country's national security. Their meeting place? A Broadway show. Sometimes working the CIA had its benefits.

Annie was tempted to take me along with her. She knew I loved the city. She knew I needed to get out. Michael hadn't shown his face since he told me about his affairs. I took out my frustrations on anybody in sight. Annie, Chloe, and Katia were all unfortunate victims. She thought I could use a vacation.

However, the last time she took me on vacation ended with us nearly dying, and her taking the life of another. She didn't want a repeat of that incident.

It didn't matter anyway, she figured. It would be a quick mission. It would only take seven hours at the most. She would be back before we ate dinner.

She had arrived in New York at around one o'clock. She had gone straight to the theater, where she would meet her contact. They would watch the matinée performance of the show, and then she would get him back to Langley. It was simple. She told me she would get home, and we could got out for some ice cream or a movie.

She was still cautious about her mission, though. She had to be. She knew all too well that the simplest missions could create the biggest disaster.

The show wasn't going to start for another ten minutes. Her contact was supposed to appear in that time.

That's when he appeared. He was a tan skinned man with curly black hair. He wore a nice suit. He took the seat next to my sister. What made him noticeable was the red watch he wore on his wrist. That was the trait she had been told to look for in her contact.

"You're in for quite a show," Annie told him, a smile on her face. It was supposed to appear like normal conversation to anybody listening. They would never know it was a spy communicating with an informant, "I saw this show two weeks ago. Teal Wicks really shines as Elphaba."

He gave her a warm smile, intrigued by her statement.

"I haven't seen her play the part yet," he replied. "I do think Nicole Parker is the best Elphaba."

Annie smiled. He said his statement word for word. She extended her hand.

"Annie Walker," she introduced.

"Shane Foglia."

I must admit, I do not know if that was his real name. Annie could have easily been using fake names to protect the identities of her contacts. For all I know, that was the fake name given to him by the CIA.

The two watched the performance for the whole thing. Leaving the theater would look suspicions to wondering eyes. They actually enjoyed the show, despite the danger of their situation. What danger? Annie knew very well that thing could go to hell in a hand basket very quickly.

The show finished.

"Would you like to accompany me for some dinner?" she offered him. He nodded. They waited outside the theater, making small talk. A black car came to pick them up. Business as usual.

It was then they entered the car that things started to go a little bit crazy.

They sat in the back, grins on both of their faces. They weren't grinning out of any sort of happiness. No, they were grinning because they were anxious.

"We're going to get you back to Langley," Annie calmly told him, "You'll be given a protection detail after you tell us the information you need."

She could see the man's heart-rate increasing. He was sweaty. He clenched his fists.

"I just hope it's enough," he sighed.

That was when a very large sound appeared, following by the car shaking.

"What was that?" Shane exclaimed. The car skidded to a halt, and Annie felt her stomach knot up.

"I think a tire just exploded," their driver told them. Annie sighed. That couldn't mean anything good.

They got out of the car. It seemed like the smart thing to do. A circle of people was crowded around the car. The always busy crowd of Times Square had given them a little space. She could hear the anxious murmurings of the crowd, wondering what could happen.

Annie looked towards the front of the vehicle. There was smoke coming from what was once the tire in the front. It didn't take a moron to figure out that it was no accident. Her guard increased

"Now how do we get back?" Shane asked her. She could see him holding back his panic. She knew, because she was as well. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

"They'll send another vehicle," she told him, quietly, "I'll go call the car company. In the meantime, let's wait somewhere safe."

She avoided anything that could imply she was in the CIA. This was a giant crowd, after all. They were curious about the situation. That meant they were paying more attention to them as then she wanted.

She scanned the crowd for any signs of a threat. There didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of overly curious civilians.

Except for the guy who appeared to be reaching for something in his pocket. Her eyes were drawn to him. Dark skin, bald head, sharp brown eyes. He wore a Tebow jersey. He appeared to be just a tourist from Denver. Except he wasn't.

She saw it happen all too quickly. He reached for something. He pulled out a gun. Nobody but her seemed to notice the deadly weapon He pointed it at Shane.

Her instinct kicked in. As quickly as she could, she reached for the gun she now kept strapped to her leg.

"Shane! Get down!" she yelled at the informant, as she fired three shots towards the gunman.

The first shot hit him in the shoulder.

The second shot hit him in the head.

The third shot plunged into a random woman's leg.

The crowd panicked. Screams could be heard everywhere. Everyone was convinced she would lodge a bullet in their brains. She couldn't process everything that happened. A group of bullheaded crowd-members overpowered her, and wrestled away her gun. In their minds, she was the psychopath. She was the one who would kill them. They had just seen her kill.

She didn't fight them back. As they subdued her, her gaze drifted to the man she just killed. She could see the weapon in his hand, so she hadn't over-reacted.

What haunted her was the lifeless look of his eyes. His blood dripped down his face. What used to be his brains were scattered around the pavement.

The police came quickly, and had her detained. They were New York homicide. They had a clean case around her. They had hundreds of witnesses who saw her kill the man. However, she got lucky. Out of the entire crowd, nobody had taken a video killings.

She knew the CIA would spring her. They would find the gun on the man, and know her story was true. However, it was going to take a while.

She was given a single phone call. She didn't have to worry about contacting CIA. They would find out. They probably already knew. She didn't need to call a lawyer either.

She thought about calling Auggie. Would they let her make a long distance call? She could imagine the look on the detectives faces. What if she did call Eritrea. She would be granted one phone call, and she called a blind guy in Africa. That would be great. Then she could talk to him until someone from the CIA got her out. That would be nice.

But he was with Parker, his girlfriend. He was probably in some romantic situation with her right now. Plus, there were time zones to think about. Who knew what time it was on that side of the world. As much as she wanted to, she didn't want to worry him.

She knew who she would call. She dialed the number she knew so well. It rang three times. She was afraid nobody would pick up. What would she do then?

But I picked up.

"Hello?"

She sighed in relief. I can remember that phone call. I remember that day. I remember her telling me she wouldn't be home for a while. What she didn't know was how relieved I was to hear her voice.

Just an hour before, I had watched a news coverage of the shooting in Times Square. They said there was a body. It thought it was her body.

"I'm going to be late getting home," she told me vaguely. She expected me to demand her for an explanation. I didn't.

"It's okay. Get home when you can," was what I told her. She smiled.

We talked on the phone for ten minutes. It was mostly me ranting about Michael. She didn't hear a word I was saying. She could only hear the sound of my voice. It was a comfort to her.

Instead, she was thinking of the man she just killed and the woman she had accidently shot. She could only picture the bullet accidently enter the woman's arm. She could see the man's blood on the pavement.

It was her second kill.

It felt worse than the first.

If only she was aware of how many more lives she would take before the situation blew over.

* * *

><p><em>I'm quite happy with how this chapter turned out. I think it makes up for the shortness that is chapter one, no? I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading, everybody!<br>_


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